(thoughts on the power of music and strangers)
You didn’t send a picture
Or tell me your last name.
You didn’t shoot the shit
Or (really) play the dating game.
You sent me a piano riff
A bridge, that you had written
Just the keys, moving up and down
And man, it got me smitten.
The arpeggios were moving
The tension drew suspense
The amount of heart and pain and love
Was huge and dark and dense.
I don’t want to know your surname
Or the reasons your heart once broke.
I want to find a heart like yours
And make it sing the way yours spoke.